For the first time in a long time, the sky over the Bastion Sanctum was unusually clear.
No clouds, no ash, no flickering spacial tears bleeding Abyssal points. It was just a stretch of clear skies that would make one to believe that they weren't at war.
Damon meanwhile was standing near the northern gate of the Sanctum, his cloak fluttering behind him and the light breeze tugging at his collar.
BloodReaper was in scythe form, hung diagonally across his back, still eagerly pulsing as if it wanted to battle right now.
Behind him, the heavy stone archway groaned open.
Captain Bren Ardan approached first, his weathered armor partially polished, though still bearing the scratches and dents from their last mission.
He carried no weapons on him now, just a heavy pouch of spatial scrolls, some letters sealed with Bastion's mark, and a half-eaten fruit he tossed aside as he walked.
"You're really going through with it, huh?" Bren asked, stopping beside him.
